


The Wicked and The Divine

by eightminutes



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3821932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eightminutes/pseuds/eightminutes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or how the cynic falls in love</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wicked and The Divine

It’s that odd hour when everything is quiet - the water pipes have finally stopped humming, the doors creaking open (yes Sasha, we all know you’re stealing food) - and it’s either too late or too early to be awake. So of course Erwin is still up. 

And if he knows that, it means Levi’s still up too. 

“What are you doing?” Levi says without preamble, opening the door after just one perfunctory knock. For all Erwin’s subtle frowns glares, and some not-so-subtle gripes about insubordination, Levi knows full well he could just lock his door if he wanted to. 

What he opens the door to is a mess of papers strewn across the floor, and one very haggard looking Erwin Smith sitting in the center. 

Erwin deigns him a small smile. The bags under his eyes are all the more clear by the lantern next to him, which casts his cheekbones into stark contrast. He looks exhausted and decades older. 

“You should be asleep,” Erwin says, even though he shifts to make room for Levi. Levi shrugs, putting his own lantern down before shutting the door behind him. 

He crosses over and kneels down in a relatively clear spot, ignoring the fact that the floors are completely filthy. 

“What’s all this?” Levi asks again. Erwin picks up another piece of paper and shows Levi. 

“I’ve been saving some articles and clippings over the years,” Erwin says. “I’m looking for a particular story.”

Levi makes a noise of acknowledgment, reaching for the article. It’s an old clipping, maybe even a decade old, yellowed but preserved exceedingly well with no wrinkles in the page. 

And he notices with growing alarm that the article’s about the disappearance of twelve workers near Yalkell. There’d been strike that year, workers protesting the slew of tax hikes during the drought. The official story had been that the government sent relief and aid to the city, and the population had gone back to a peaceful living. 

“Erwin,” he says, throat working rapidly. “How do you have this?”

Erwin looks at him, tired, but with conviction in his eyes. “Believe it or not, sometimes newspapers tell the truth.”

Levi looks down at the articles. They’re a litany of sobering facts - disappearances, police brutality, records of tax evasion and corruption at the highest official level, speculations about the king’s failing health, speculation that he’s just a puppet. 

“I’ve never seen these stories,” Levi says.

“They’re mostly local papers that the government didn’t have a hand in.” Erwin looks bitter. “I tried to trace down some of the reporters, but official records say they’ve never existed. You can’t find any of these articles in archives either.”

Levi swallows. He’s not the strategist Erwin is, but he understands what this means.

“There’s resistance,” he says. Even if it’s small and isolated, there are other people brave enough to risk their lives doing this.  _We’ve got a chance_ , he almost says, and shakes the thought out of his head.

Erwin nods, still sifting through the articles. There’s an order to this, Levi realizes, watching Erwin organize the stories in loosely defined piles. Levi reaches for another article, watching Erwin out of the corner of his eye.

“Why do you have these?” Levi asks. There’s a tightness in his chest when he looks at Erwin and wonders how long he’s held onto this, knowing he’d be executed and dealt a traitor’s death for doing this. 

Erwin looks at him hard. “Sometimes after being called into the capital, I wonder if what they’re saying is true and if  _I am_  the enemy.” His mouth twists into something sad for a fraction of a moment. “It’s a way to keep track of reality.”

They continue in silence for a few minutes, and not for the first time Levi feels overwhelmed and swept under by the immensity of what they’re doing. 

“Oh,” Erwin says softly. He picks up a small leather-bound book, a sore thumb sticking out from the piles of papers. “I’d forgotten this was here.”

Levi reaches for it without thinking. “What is it?”

Erwin runs a finger along the spine of the book before holding it out to Levi. “My father’s old notes.”

Levi recoils back. He can’t help it, the look he sends Erwin. He’s heard about Erwin’s dad from Hange and Mike, but not from Erwin, and he can’t help the guilt that bubbles up knowing what he knows. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, a weak approximation of what he feels. Erwin looks perplexed and amused. 

“It’s fine,” Erwin says. Levi realizes he’s still holding out the book, so Levi reaches out and takes it. It’s a lot lighter than he’d have thought, the leather soft and worn. Levi’s hesitates to open it. “They took everything from his office, and most of the things from our house, except for this.”

Levi sends Erwin another glance before opening the cover, squinting at the cursive on the page. 

“It’s…” Levi swallows. “It’s a recipe book.”

There’s no mistaking the first page - Roast Chicken with Carrots - or the second page - Cabbage Stew. He flips to the last page - Potato Soup - and stares at Erwin. 

Erwin smiles, and for the first time that night it almost reaches his eyes. “I’m sure that was their conclusion too.”

Levi looks down at the pages. “So you don’t agree with that.” It’s a statement.

Erwin shakes his head. “My father wasn’t a cook. I think this is his research, encrypted.”

Levi says. “Do you know what it’s about?”

Erwin leans a bit closer, and here Levi can see the light of the lantern reflected in his eyes. “I can’t even fathom.” He sighs softly, like something shifting in the atmosphere. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s even worth looking into.”

“What do you mean?” Levi asks.

“It’s been decades since I’ve talked to him. For all I know, the king was right and he was nothing but delusional.”

“No.” It comes out a lot faster and harsher than Levi had imagined. “No,” he says again, one hand balled into a fist in his lap. “If your father was anything like you, I never want to hear you say that again.”

Levi’s a burst of anger and hurt, for reasons he can’t even imagine, and Erwin’s just a fixed solitude in his vision right now. He feels the weight of Erwin’s hand press over his. 

“Thank you,” Erwin says. It takes a few moments for Levi to process the words, Erwin’s hand on his, the soft smile on his face. Levi looks away, embarrassed about his reaction. 

But the feeling doesn’t go away, something coiled warm in his stomach. The calculations all realign in that moment. Erwin, who kept gruesome clippings in some secret hole in his room, Erwin who was the last to sleep and the first to rise, Erwin who put him and his friends in the safest part of the formation and apologized to him even if it wasn’t his fault they died, Erwin who told him about his father without really telling him anything and Erwin who assumed he’d understand.

Levi realizes, and when he looks at Erwin again, sees the way Erwin’s eyes widen and throat work, he knows Erwin knows. And he wonders how long, and he wonders what Erwin’s going to do and more importantly why he’s never done anything.

Levi opens his mouth to say something, and at that moment Erwin squeezes his hand hard over Levi’s and draws it away. 

“It’s late,” Erwin says. “You should sleep.”

It is late, and they don’t have time for this. And for a moment, when Levi stands and dusts off his pants, when he bends down to pick up the lantern, he questions himself. He doesn’t feel any different, and at the same time he feels like his world has shifted to put Erwin at his magnetic north. He wants to look at Erwin and think  _mine,_  and ask where Erwin got all his scars, and look at Erwin’s father’s books and try the recipes, even if they are completely fabricated. 

His heart beats to the tune of  _there - will - be - time_  as he walks back down the hallway.

* * *

_It was a quiet realization  
_ _Like checking the weather I was currently standing in  
_ _“Huh. It’s a bit warmer  
_ _than I would have guessed.“_

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the poem: http://kaitrokowski.tumblr.com/post/59453081006/how-the-cynic-falls-in-love


End file.
